Traveler's Stone
by My Vantilene
Summary: After a mission in Risembool goes wrong, Mustang and Hawkeye find themselves launched into the past. Now they have to deal with two six and seven-year-old child prodigies if they ever want to get back. Parental Roy/Ed Maternal Riza/Al
1. Chapter 1

DiScLaImEr: _I_ d_o_n_'_t _o_w_n _F_u_l_l_m_e_t_a_l _A_l_c_h_e_m_i_s_t. _I _h_o_p_e _t_h_i_s _w_a_s _a_s _h_a_r_d _f_o_r _y_o_u _t_o _r_e_**a**d _a_s _i_t _w_a_s _f_o_r _m_e _t_o _a_d_m_it.

[**Manga/Brotherhood verse, pre-series**]

"No. _No._ No! _No! __**No! **_NO!"

The ninth floor of Eastern Command was a relatively calm place. We arrive at that assumption by adding the two averages of an archetypal work month, two weeks without the infamous Elric brothers, two weeks with, and dividing it by two, as one would often do with grades. For the final average to be calm, the rest of the month has to be deathly silent, as it is without Mustang's favorite chew toy. Of course, it's still not unusual in a relatively calm place like Eastern Command, to hear shouting matches between the Flame Alchemist and the Fullmetal Alchemist. They are often shortly-lived and extremely _loud_, threatening to challenge Major Armstrong's flamboyant nature with their voluminous threats. But no matter what volume their arguments reached, it was always balanced out with the decimating silence that would follow. This time, however, it was evident to anyone in the facility that this would cause the average to take a nose dive. Not even two weeks absent of even the shuffling of paper could recover from the booming voices bouncing from down the hallway, where the colonel's office could be located.

"Fullmetal! Calm down." Mustang let out an exasperated sigh as he flipped through the mission debriefing papers, "I knew you had a short temper, but I just didn't know how _short_."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL HE'D BE THE FIRST OUT OF A PACK OF MICE TO DROWN WHEN IT RAINS, YOU JERK?"

"What?" confusion splayed across his features for a brief moment, but it soon contorted to a look of smug satisfaction, "Wow, you're getting clever at those. You'd be even more clever if you learned to hold your tongue when addressing a superior officer."

"I will talk to you however I want to! And I am NOT going on that mission with a bastard like you!"

"These orders come directly from the Fuhrer, choosing to not participate is considered treason and can have your rank as a state alchemist revoked, thus ending all restricted information you have had access to as of late for the pursuit of your original bodies. Also, without a source of income, you will be judged unfit to have Alphonse in your care, and the two of you could be put in separate orphanages until the ripe age of eighteen."

"You. Wouldn't. Dare."

"Oh, no, you're right, Fullmetal, I wouldn't dare. But this is of high military importance, if neglected the Fuhrer himself has the right to assign a fitting punishment. And I think we've already been over what that might be." He schooled his face into an expression of disinterest as he twirled a pen between his middle and index fingers.

"Have a heart, colonel!" his eyes lost the fire that once ignited them with rage at the thought he might be separated from Al in his current state, "Can't I do the mission alone?"

Seeing the expression in his face harboring only frightened sorrow, Mustang inwardly cringed. He'd take an angry Edward over this Edward any day. And, for alchemy's sake, he had to get those pleading eyes off of him!

"Someone as small as you shouldn't be off on a mission as big as this one without adult supervision." The words tripped unceremoniously out of his mouth, lacking the smugness and the grace of his usual insults. He just had to get the boy mad again. And quick.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE BELONGS IN A FOREST COTTAGE WITH SEVEN OF HIS BROTHERS, YOU JERK?"

There it was, that fury burning in his eyes, that malevolent twitch of the mouth, and that sound of teeth gnashing in pure animosity. That was the Edward Elric Mustang could handle. He inwardly sighed a sigh of relief before regaining his composure and starting again.

"What I meant was that this job requires two alchemists, and considering the Major…" the colonel coughed a bit before continuing, "So it is imperative that you and I work together for once."

"Fine." He spat, "Where are we headed to?"

"Risembool." He smirked.

* * *

WHAT READER IS CALLING THIS TOO SMALL TO ACTUALLY BE CONSIDERED A BREAKLINE, YOU JERK?

* * *

The engines of the trains in the station whistled like jubilant teapots amongst the hustle and bustle of local citizens and tourists alike making their way through the train port.

"Will we be staying long in Risembool?" Edward asked, trying to keep his tone as civil as possible, so as not to disrupt the other passengers boarding.

"A week, maybe, two tops." Mustang answered as he slid into his seat, parallel to Edward's, "I'm looking forward to meeting a certain blond mechanic I've heard so much about." He purred lowly for the desired effect.

"Pedophile."

"What?"

"You heard me, pervert!"

The train doors were almost closing when a noise sounded and the entire train jerked backwards. The doors next to them were thrust open and a familiar solider garbed in blue stepped on.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye? What are you doing here?"

"I heard this morning that you and Major Elric where embarking on a week-long mission alone. I'm here to make sure you don't blow up Risembool."

Riza sat next to Roy, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest.

"Hey, Edward."

"Hi, Lieutenant."

"Roy."

"Riza." He replied with a smug grin.

* * *

OH, YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT. THIS IS A BREAKLINE AND I JUST CAN'T HIDE IT.

* * *

After a complete train ride in silence, Edward finally managed to ask the subject of their mission when receiving an escort to the old library.

"We're researching a stone, kind of like the Philosopher's Stone, but instead of bypassing the law of Equivalent Exchange, it bypasses the law of Forward Motion, and to some degree the cycle of construction, deconstruction, and reconstruction."

His golden eyes went wide, "So, wait, something that's being constructed on one end of Forward Motion can also be reconstructed on that end as well, after being deconstructed on another end? Two of the same whole can exist on one end of the spectrum while being completely nonexistent on the end originally intended for the construction process, skipping the reconstruction process and moving straight to the deconstructing process, but just barely escaping the harmful effects of that measure, while still remaining to exist even after returning to the other end? And all of this could happen in a blink of an eye! Maybe it's already happened? Or whoever has the stone now is the reason the things we see today exist, and if that's so then the whole process can be reversed, things deconstructing can reconstruct, then construct, and stay constructing for however long the stone is in use. And then there would be no use for the deconstructing process, so then the variables to many —"

"Whoa there, Fullmetal. You're even scaring me now."

"But what you guys are talking about is basically time travel." Hawkeye deadpanned.

"Basically. With immortality as an added bonus."

"Immortality?"

"If you could bypass the deconstruction process, then there would be no need for death."

"I see."

The car pulled to an abrupt stop on the way to the library. Outside was a large hill, the burned base of what used to be a house resting on the cresting top of the slope. Edward threw a wide-eyed glance wildly over his shoulder at Mustang, but the man was already out of the car, walking up the grassy steps to the charred remains of the Elric residence. Hawkeye was suddenly beside him, looking down at his golden eyes, crowned by furrowed brows with a look of sympathy.

"We're sorry, Edward, if this is too much for you. I know you haven't been here since—"

A noise escaped his throat like that of a small dying animal and he turned to go. Hawkeye inwardly groaned as she realized what his retreat meant. She looped an arm around his waist and brought her hands to her hips, effectively trapping the fourteen-almost-fifteen-year-old in a one-handed hold. She carried him like piece of luggage all the way up the hill.

"Please, Edward. We believe that your father was in possession of the Traveler's Stone, so you have information that is absolutely imperative to this case, if there's anything you can tell us —"

The same noise gurgled in his throat and overflowed, acting like a knife against Hawkeye's heart. The boy was a loud-mouthed and short-tempered, brilliant prodigy, but he was still a motherless, fatherless emotional wreck of a child, forced to grow up and take care of another child before his time. And he couldn't take the pain coupled with the house. He struggled and tried to worm his way out of her grip, but she simply configured him in her arms, changing the position he was being carried in from luggage to bridal style. He didn't refuse to cease struggling, and began whimpering. The Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People, Angel of Amestris, a notorious military dog, known for his reckless and destructive nature, was _whimpering_ in her arms. It tore at her heart to see the boy's mask of iron crumble with just one glance at the house's ruins.

"Lieutenant! I've found something!" the colonel shouted. She followed the sound of his voice and stumbled upon the smoldered basement. An orange stone glinting like embers and shining with voracious tongues of fire sat in a scorched pile of debris. Mustang and Hawkeye's eyes flashed with recognition as the colonel descended in a crouch for closer inspection. He picked up the stone, but on contact the arrays on his ignition gloves illuminated, the same atypical orange that stained the powerful stone caused an iridescent glow to awaken within the cracks of the alchemic sketch. One flash of orange lightning erupted from his hand like the fine silk of a spider's web, reaching out to claim the entire foundation he stood upon. His vision was clouded with an auburn plume of smoke, marred only by the stabs of lightning that erupted from the artifact in his hand. A numb feeling overtook him, the only sense he could grip were the nerves in the end of his fingers, frayed with a tingly feeling of warmth and security. But it didn't last long, for the feeling was ripped right from underneath him like a blanket. He was plunged into a sensation of being drugged, and was suddenly incredibly thirsty and tired and hungry all at the same agonizing time. Instantaneously, he felt like he was being torn from his very being, a gripping pain enveloping him in a cocoon of separation. Atom by atom, molecule by molecule, he felt himself ripping away from the norm and everything he was acquainted with, being forced into another state of being not entirely familiar to him. He shouted garbled obscenities almost in the way Edward would when addressed to as "Shrimp," but was alarmed when no sound came. He stretched his fingers with an immense difficulty and brought them to his mouth no matter the weight he now felt, having applied them to his face. It was like having an elephant — or worse, Armstrong — balanced on his face. He screamed something else, and while still uneasy about the amount of sound missing, it was an enormous relief to feel the warmth of his breath come out. So at least he knew he was still breathing. In a moment, he wished he wasn't. While he had the quasi-pleasant eccentricity of a weightless existence before, he now had the great burden of tenfold his normal weight as placement. He crashed to the floor of a grassy expanse and everything was back to normal. After a few moments of lying on his back peacefully and staring up at the puffy clouds overhead, garbled obscenities bounced around the air out of seemingly nowhere.

_I broke the sound barrier…? But wouldn't that mean…?_

He clutched his knees with a start and observed his surroundings with renewed alarm. Where was Fullmetal? Where was the car? Where was Ri—

"Roy!" there was a reassuring squeeze in his hand. He looked to his right and saw Hawkeye, limbs sprawled out in a disheveled position, blood dribbling from her bottom lip.

"Riza! What happened?"

"You activated the Traveler's Stone…I think…" her voice was quieter and even frailer than before as her eyes threatened to droop close. He brought his strong arms around her waist and dragged her into his lap, fully holding her, dragging her into an embrace.

"Riza! Riza, stay with me!" he shot to his feet and ran to the neighboring two-story house, knocking on the door violently.

"Come on, come on." He whispered desperately. His brain was thinking so fast he didn't have time to dwell on what time period he might've landed Riza and himself in, but was focused on her and her alone ever since she cried his name. He had to get her medical attention. And fast.

He didn't even realize the door had opened several moments ago and his fist was banging against an intangible modicum of air.

"Can I…help you, Sir?" the fairly young woman who opened the door eyed his military uniform up and down with a bluish-grey gaze.

"Please, she's injured — badly! I need your help!"

"Of course, right this way, Sir." The brunette opened the door wider and led him to what looked like a child's room with one large bed and wooden furnishings.

"Please, set her down on the bed and I'll—" He didn't hear the rest of her sentence, however. He blacked out before any more sound could filter through his ears.

* * *

C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-COMBO B-B-BREAKER B-B-BORDERLINE

* * *

When Mustang came to, there was the woman again, hoisting a warm, damp towel to his forehead.

"Huh?" he muttered, flabbergasted at his current surroundings, until he remembered Riza and what had happened.

"Hawkeye? Where's Hawkeye?"

"Shh…" she soothed, "Calm down," she pushed him by the collarbone back into the bed, "she's fine. See for yourself." The lady moved to reveal a view of Lieutenant Hawkeye, calmly sleeping on the large bed from earlier that day.

She stood up and held out a hand,

"I'm Trisha Elric. It's a pleasure to serve a solider. You and your men are doing so much for our country in Ishval. It's the least I could do to repay you for keeping a little old place like Risembool safe." His eyes widened to the size of saucers as he took her hand and shook it. A creak sounded from the door and the pounding of tiny feet sounded against the hardwood flooring.

"Mom!" a quiet voice called, tugging on the bottom of her periwinkle dress, his voice dropped to a whisper, "What's the scary man still doing here? Is he… Does he… does he know where Dad is?"

"Honey," she crouched down to his level and took his hand, "You know Dad's going to be gone for awhile…"

"I know, I know. But he's coming back, right?" the fear that crossed his golden eyes was painful to anyone with a heart in a 50 mile radius.

"Of course he is." She smiled reassuringly, "And this man isn't evil, okay?"

"But just look at him! He scares Al, too. And he's a solider! Do you even care about how hard Winry's been crying?"

"I do, but he needs our help, okay, sweetie? Why don't you go cheer her up, my big strong man?" she encouraged and pinched his cheeks for good measure.

"Mom!" he giggled, rubbing the skin she had pinched, "Not in front of the sc — I mean, solider!"

"Would you rather me do it in front of Winry?" she smiled as a look of undisguised horror shifted his features.

"No! I mean, um, that's okay. I'll go see if she's calmed down some."

And with that, the boy was gone, and Mustang stared at the place he had been standing.

"Oh, don't mind him, that's just my son, Edward. He kind of has solider-phobia. But I see by your uniform you're not just a solider; you're a colonel."

"My, you're refreshingly observant—" he stopped midsentence upon realizing he was almost flirting with Ms. Elric, the mother of such an outrageous brat, and that Riza was laying in the bed next to him.

"Is she going to be okay?"

"Of course. She's just running a fever. However…"

"However…?"

"She was throwing up blood through the night."

"Through the night? How long have we been asleep?"

"At least three days, I think."

"Has her condition gotten any better?"

"Tremendously, when you passed out with her in your arms, she took quite a fall, but she's recovering at an incredulous rate." She closed her mouth a second, opened it, then closed it again. Finally she asked,

"You said her name was Hawkeye, correct?"

"Ugh…" he shook his head decisively, "No…Hawkeye is sort of a nickname she picked up in basic training. You know, she's got eyes like a hawk. Her name's… Lila. Lila Anurok. And I'm…Atticus Mercier."

"Well, she's not due to wake up for two more days…and you seem to be healing faster and in better shape when you arrived here, I think you'd be well enough to have dinner with us tonight."

"Oh, I couldn't intrude like that—"

"Nonsense." She waved it off with a flick of her wrist, "It would be an honor to have someone of your rank at our dinner table."

* * *

GUESS WHO HAS FIVE "S's" AND IS A BREAKLINE? THIS GIRL.

* * *

It was an awkward two minutes at the table before Trisha came out of the kitchen with the dinner. Alphonse was helping her carry some of the pots, and with Hawkeye — er, Anurok, still in bed, that left Edward and Roy at the table. Alone. As in _by themselves_.

But the room didn't spontaneously combust like he thought it would. In fact, he swore the room dropped a couple degrees since they were left alone. All he could do was stare at the seven-year-old sitting across the table from him. His expression was innocent and his eyes were wide by default, something he never expected from the squinty-with-suspicion-eyed, experienced boy he was used to. His large eyes twinkled and glittered with stifled questions as he stared at his hands, sneaking an occasional glance the colonel's way. He rubbed his elbow anxiously for a moment, then switched to twiddling his thumbs, shaky breaths coming out in small air-tremors.

Mustang's jaw dropped for a split second before he jammed it shut.

Edward Elric, his only subordinate that had the audacity to refer to him as Colonel Bastard, was _scared_ of him. He was seriously _terrified_.

"So…Edward…" the boy's neck practically snapped to look at him, his eyes topped with furrowing brows, signifying verbally addressing him was not doing anything to ease the dense tension in the room, "I hear you and Alphonse are aspiring alchemists."

"Y-y-yes, S-s-sir." His teeth chattered violently.

"You know, I'm an alchemist." His eyes shone with a tiny gleam of adoration, "A state alchemist." The horror in his eyes was back as Trisha and Alphonse brought the cooked goose and hot stew onto the wooden table.

"Oh, you're a state alchemist?" Trisha asked good-naturally as she set forks and spoons around the plates already assembled.

"Um, yes, actually. I specialize in…transmuting statues."

"Oh, that must come in handy in the field." She giggled, swiftly turning to Alphonse, "Honey, why don't you go get some napkins for us and our guest?"

"Ah-ha!" he smiled brightly as she ruffled his hair and he sped off to fetch the napkins.

"I specialize in it, as in no one else has transmuted a statue for their state alchemist exam. I use regular alchemy for field work."

"I see."

"I got the napkins!" the toddler proclaimed, distributing them to each plate.

"How many people have you killed with that alchemy?" Edward inquired slowly, picking up his fork and stabbing a slice of cooked goose Trisha had put on his plate. Mustang looked up from his meal to see a flash of the Edward he knew looking at him, not daring to take his accusingly hot gaze off of the colonel.

"Edward!" Cried Trisha, utterly repulsed by her son's behavior and surprised that he would say something so rude, "That is _not _how we treat guests!"

"Oh, it's quite alright, Trisha." Mustang assured her, placing his fork back down on the napkin Alphonse had laid out for him. He then turned to the younger version of Edward and looked at him firmly in the eye. He knew most of it was going to be a complete, blatant lie, but he needed this kid's trust if he hoped to ever get him and Hawkeye back to present day.

"I kill people who threaten the lives of Amestrian citizens. I put my life on the lines everyday for kids like you to live happy and sheltered lives in the county. I fight to protect, and if it's the entire population of Amestris versus a few criminals here or there, I'm going to take the latter. So, on average, I've killed around twenty Ishvalan combatants. But I've saved relatively nine million Amestrian citizens."

The entire room was deathly silent after he finished. After a short interval of time, there was a ringing sound of silverware clanging onto the table as he dropped his utensils and Edward left the room.

"Brother!" Alphonse called, running after Ed.

Ms. Elric's face just went slack. After Alphonse was completely out of the room, she began raining apologies down on the time traveler.

"I am _so_ sorry about that. He's — he's normally not that _brusque_, he's normally such a sweet little boy—" Mustang thought about the irony in that, compared to the Elric brother he knew, "I guess he's just upset because he was…kind of expecting someone else. But really, I am sorry."

Mustang's eyebrows rose.

"Who else would he be expecting?"

"His…" she sighed, "…father."

"Is he not here?"

"No. He hasn't been here for three years. We really don't know where he is."

"He hasn't sent so much as a postcard or a let— oh," he exclaimed, upon seeing the expression change in her eyes, "I…I didn't mean to pry."

Mustang sat in awe as he picked at the stew in his bowl. He had known Edward's dad wasn't around, but he had assumed he died or that Edward and Alphonse were emancipated upon joining the military. He had no idea his father had left — and by choice, it sounded like.

"It's quite alright." She smiled brightly, "I know he's safe. And that's good enough for me."

* * *

WARNING: THIS IS A BREAKLINE.

* * *

The next day, Mustang awoke to Alphonse's eyes perusing him from a completely unsafe distance of five inches. Once the six-year-old realized he was awake, he back pedaled several feet until his back pushed against the wall. He gave a quick bow, then turned to run.

"Wait."

He stopped in his tracks and his blood went cold. He slowly turned around to face the future colonel.

"Y-yes?"

"There's no need to be scared." He swung his legs over the bed and raised his back into a sitting position. "I don't have a gun," he waved his hands to signify that they were clean, "And I'm not going to hurt you."

He didn't make any motion to un-plaster himself from the wall.

"If I was so bad, then why did your mom let me in?"

This got to him and his grip on the wall loosened. He took a few shaky steps toward the solider.

"Is…that your wife?" he pointed at the unconscious Hawkeye. She had been stripped of her military garb due to her fever taking a drastic spike through the night, so all that covered her was a black tank top, beige Capri's, and a white sheet. Her hair had been taken out of the uniform bun and golden tendrils fanned out behind her head, soaking the pillow with their warmth. Her bangs were a darker blond because of the sweat drenching her forehead, and a distressed expression stained her otherwise angelic features. She really did look like an angel to him. But he regretfully shook his head,

"Nope. She's an old friend of mine. Her name's Lila. I'm Atticus." He stuck out a hand towards the boy, but the boy hesitated once the colonel's eyes fell upon him. He tentatively shook his hand. And Roy could only stare. He was so used to that voice rattling around in an empty suit of armor, and those eyes being a glowing crimson rather than a greenish-gold mixture. He was used to a seven-foot hunk of metal, not a three-foot kid, with flesh and bones.

"My friend Winry doesn't like you staying here, but if Mom says it's okay, then you can't be too bad." He smiled reassuringly, but his voice still shook.

"Why would Winry not like me staying here?"

"Her parents were doctors in the Ishvalan civil war. Soldiers are the reason they're dead."

He found his eyebrows rising once again at an uncovered truth. What else did he not know about the Elric brothers?

"I'm so sorry to hear that. I wouldn't kill doctors, though. Doctors are completely innocent, and the Rockbell's sound like wonderful people, I couldn't imagine a solider killing them."

"Actually," his gaze shifted, "We really don't know how they died. Their bodies were just uncovered recently. So, Winry's still sensitive to things like that. She really doesn't need soldiers staying in a house that's practically hers. I'm sorry about Ed's outburst last night…he really cares for Winry. So, to see her like that is really affecting him too."

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I really shouldn't be anywhere near here right now."

"But you're still injured." After a slight hesitation, Alphonse grabbed his arm, rolled up his sleeve, and ran a finger along the exposed skin, "We can't let you leave until you're completely healed."

"But what have I done to deserve your help?" Roy was a bit suspicious at the sudden hospitality the boy was encouraging.

"What do you mean? You're injured." Alphonse looked sincerely confused at the colonel's statement.

"But that's not Equivalent Exchange, I've done nothing to earn your care." Mustang, as well, was confused.

"Silly," the boy beamed brightly, "Equivalent Exchange is only for alchemy. Why would we try living our lives by something so apathetic?" he laughed as if Mustang was suggesting the moon was truly made of Vermont Cheddar.

"B-but…"

"But what?"

_But that _is_ the rule you live your lives by. _Of course Mustang couldn't suggest something that gave insight to his true origins. So he gave a quick and unconvincing "Nothing" as an answer. Alphonse tilted his head at the reply, but if he was suspicious, he didn't leave behind any evidence.

"Hey! I know what you can do while in Risembool!"

"What? I never even—"

"You want to come with me to pick some flowers? There're some really cool ones on the hill and you can see the whole valley from there!"

"Um…I don't know…"

"Come on, some fresh air can help your wounds heal!" he was now grabbing Roy's wrist in an attempt to pull him along. Roy just stared at him inquisitively. This Alphonse wasn't only different in appearance from the one he was used to, he was far too trusting as well. Only five minutes ago he was terrified of him, and now he was inviting the colonel to go off with him where no one else could see them or hear him scream if he decided to murder the child.

"Fine," he couldn't help but chuckle, "I'll go with you." The elation that broke out on his face was highly contagious and Roy found himself unwarrantedly smiling wider than he had in a long time.

"Yay!" his grip on his wrist tightened as he ran out the door, colonel in tow. He found himself flying across the grassy acres that seemed to stretch on for miles. Eventually a patch of delicate white flowers could be seen frosting the top of an emerald hill. Upon reaching their destination, Alphonse flopped onto his back, giggling wildly. His chest heaved up and then receded at a fast pace and his breathing came out heavily. His lungs burned from the run, but he just couldn't stop giggling. The colonel felt the act impressionable and he too — more graciously, however — found himself on his back in the floral bed. After a few minutes of peaceful rest, he was startled when Al bolted into a sitting position.

"Okay! You pick the flowers from that side and I'll pick them up from this side. Deal?"

"Deal." He confirmed, picking a few flowers by the green stem with his right hand and storing them with his left.

"Who are you going to give your flowers to, Atticus?" the boy questioned nonchalantly, "Lila…?" his tone was then saturated with implication. Roy found himself unconsciously blushing. Roy Mustang, womanizer extraordinaire, was actually blushing. And the kid hadn't even said anything inappropriate!

"I, uh, no it's not — me and her we're not — I mean, we couldn't, she —" he sputtered uncontrollably as Alphonse laughed. His expression grew annoyed and suspicious.

"What are you up to, kid?" he deadpanned.

"Nothing, nothing!" He exclaimed, holding up his hands in an innocent fashion, but the laughter in his voice didn't help his façade any. He bundled up the flowers he picked and laid them to the side before brushing his dirty hands off on his pant legs, "It's just Ed does that when I mention Winry while we're picking flowers." He eyed him up and down for a moment, then sighed. His gaze sunk to the floor as he sat criss-cross-applesauce. He gripped his elbow nervously and sighed.

"Something wrong, Al?"

His eyes were suddenly on him, and Mustang almost cringed against the light in them. Something flashed in those emerald-gold eyes, something along the lines of recognition.

"Y-you kind of remind me of him."

"Of who?"

"Dad. He…he used to give me that same look when we used to pick flowers."

"Man, Al, how many people have you roped into picking flowers with you?" Mustang chuckled.

"He talked like that, too." The boy smiled and stood up, walking around aimlessly before plopping down close to Roy, "Will you…will you talk some more? I mean, I just…" Mustang shot him a confused look and the boy took it as a no, "Sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"It's quite alright, Al. I'll talk some more. Would you like me to tell you a story?"

Alphonse nodded vigorously, a giant smile stretching across his face.

"Well, once upon a time…" he paused for awhile and Alphonse almost thought he had given up, but he continued a few seconds after doubt started to seep, "there was a boy who lived on another planet, far away from this one. It was a very small planet, more like a pit stop for passing celestial ships. On this planet, named Montressor, the boy, Jim Hawkins, ran an inn with his mother. His father had loved him very much, but his job got in the way. One day he left for port and never came back. One rainy day at the inn, Jim found a sickly alien in the port, a wooden chest in his arms that he clung to for dear life. Jim brought him inside and he told Jim to 'beware the cyborg.' He opened the chest before abruptly dying. Inside was an orb with complicated markings on it. Minutes upon stumbling on it, Jim, his mother, and family friend, Dr. Doppler, were attacked by pirates. They barely escaped with their lives and the map and the inn was burned to the ground. They took refuge at Dr. Doppler's mansion. Inspecting the markings, Jim found that he could open the orb to reveal a holographic map to the legendary Treasure Planet. Enthralled by the idea, Dr. Doppler funded an expedition for the treasure in hopes of helping Jim's mother rebuild her inn. Jim went along with it as a cabin boy, placed under the rule of the ship's cyborg cook, Mr. Long John Silver. Jim was a rough young man with no father to show him the ropes, so he got into fights on the ship. Silver stopped one before one of the crew men could kill him. Realizing the boy had grown up with no dad to speak of, Silver took the boy under his wing and bonded with him over various ship chores. Jim finally felt he had found someone he could put trust into, someone to replace his absentee father. After Mr. Arrow died in a black hole because Jim didn't secure all of the life lines, Silver cheered him up and made sure he was alright. The next day, minutes before they would get their first glimpse at Treasure Planet, Jim got stuck in an apple barrel. Outside he overheard a conversation Silver and the rest of the crew men were having. As it turned out, Jim's first suspicions of the cyborg were correct. He was a pirate— and not just any pirate, but the captain. He was outraged at being tricked into thinking he meant anything to the mutineer. He took the map, Dr. Doppler, and the rightful captain of the ship and escaped in a long boat, the same one Silver had taught him to drive.

Silver caught up with him on the planet and negotiated for the map. As it turned out, Jim didn't really have the real map. He snuck back into the ship and got it, but upon arriving at the base their little group had put together, he found that his cohorts were tied up by Silver and his men. They forced Jim to open the map upon discovering only he could open it, and found a door that could open portals to every place in the galaxy. They picked the portal at the center of the planet and it brought them to the treasure. However, the place was booby trapped and was set to detonate in a matter of minutes. All of the pirates tried to grab all the treasure they could, but ended up getting hit by the detonator's lasers and they died. When given the choice between saving a literal boat load of treasure and Jim's life, Silver grabbed Jim's hand before he could fall over the precipice and ran him to safety. However, it was not safety. The planet was still due to blow and the ship wasn't going to be able to clear the planet's destruction in time. But Jim was the clever one who thought of using the door portals to transport the ship to safety. Once back, hovering above the Montressor space port, Silver had untied a longboat and was about to take off. Jim meets up with Silver and thanks him for saving his life by letting the old cyborg go instead of handing him over to the authorities. Silver gives him rubies he had stashed in his clothing before the planet's explosion for his mother to rebuild her inn. Later, for his gallant behavior and quick thinking, he is accepted into the Stellar Academy and graduates with flying colors. The end."

Alphonse clapped with a huge smile on his face, "That was amazing! Did you think of all of that yourself?"

"Nope. My adopted uncle Ron told me that one. But it sure is good, isn't it?"

"It's even better than the ones my mom tells me!" he puffed sourly, "Those always have princesses and stuff in them. But I like pirate stories much better!"

"Good to hear."

"You know, you told that story just like Dad would." He sighed disappointedly, as if realizing for the first time it wasn't his dad really talking. He laid back into the flowers and spread out his arms, as if pausing in the middle of making a snow angel.

"You really miss your dad, don't you?"

"Yeah. He didn't tell sissy stories about princesses. He told me stories of ancient cities. Like Xerxes! He could make the fake places sound so real."

"But…Xerxes is real."

"Really? And they're sorcerers there?"

"No, actually, it's in ruins now. The entire city was destroyed in one night. But that was ages ago. No one really knows how."

"Oh." He stood up swiftly and twisted his back to look back at Mustang.

"Do you want to have race, Atticus?"

"Sure." He stood up and brushed the alabaster petals off of him, "Where to?"

"Not a running race, Silly," he laughed, "A hill race."

"A hill race?"

"Wait—" he stared at him incredulously, "You've never had a hill race before?"

"Never."

"Never ever?"

He gave a small smile, "Never ever."

"Well, we'll have to fix that, now won't we?" He laid down on the edge of the hill and explained, "See, first you start out like this, then you roll down the hill as fast as you can and try to beat the other person to the bottom."

"Okay. Let me give it a try." He got in position underneath Alphonse's feet and they both rolled. However, Roy's weight and the disproportional height of the hill caused him and Al to collide half way down and roll the rest of the way on top of each other. At the bottom, they untangled their limbs with deep, mirthful laughter.

If Roy had a sudden out-of-body experience right now he would not believe his eyes. There was no way that was him right there, laughing his head off with a child at the simplest uncanny accidents. But there was something about the moment and the timing of it all that just filled his soul with joy.

After the laughter had died down, they repositioned themselves into a lying position at the base of the hill.

"That one's an alligator." Alphonse stated, pointing at a puffy, white cloud.

"Really? I thought it looked more like a snake, but I guess to each, their own."

"Haha, that one's a ring!" he pointed out one next to it, "And that one is a hawk's eye!"

He smiled deviously, "Speaking of rings and hawk's eyes, are you and Lila ever going to get married?"

"Well, um, I'm not sure — if I, if I know about that yet."

"But you like her, don't you?" Alphonse questioned, confused, "I saw the way you looked at her this morning."

"Well, yeah, I guess I kind of do."

"So then why not? Isn't that what you do when you like a girl?"

"Well, the girl has to like you back."

He made a sour face, "Does she not like you?"

"No, she likes me, but—"

"Then what's the problem?"

"What I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," he shot him a pointed look and Alphonse looked the other way and whistled "unsuspectingly" to avoid it, "Was that marriage only works if the girl says yes. She may like me, but she has to like me in a certain way to want to be my bride."

"You mean like like?"

"Yes. She has to like like me."

"Well, I can't see why she wouldn't. You seem two seem like the perfect match to me."

His face went slack, "How would you know? You've never even seen her with her eyes open."

"Hey," he shrugged, "when you know these things, you know these things. It's a gift I have. It's like how I know Winry and Brother are going to get married one day."

"Have you tried saying that to his face?"

"Yes." He nodded, then his face scrunched up, "He took it well. It was Winry who started throwing around wrenches."

His eyebrows rose, "Wrenches?"

"It's her weapon of choice."

"Ahh. I see."

After a short period of comfortable and peaceful silence, Alphonse finally spoke up.

"How long are you going to be staying with us? Just until your wounds are healed?"

"Actually, if it's not trouble, I'd like to stay here with Lila until we can find a ride out back home."

"Where's home?"

"Far, far away from here." He mused with a sad smile playing on his lips. They stared at the clouds a little longer before the child spoke up again.

"I like you."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I wish you'd stay here with us forever!"

"Really? You've only spent thirty minutes with me. You don't know how useless I am on a rainy day."

"Well, I still wish you didn't have to go. I only get to see so many new faces around here. Risembool's nice, but it's way too small."

"I wish I could stay here too, Kiddo. It's too noisy on the field and in the city. Out here it's nice and peaceful." _That and I could never imagine doing this with the present day Alphonse. _

"Well, you'll come and visit, right?"

"Maybe."

"Oh, come on!" he pouted, "You have to promise."

"Hey! I don't have to promise you anything!"

"Then you can't have any dinner." He huffed.

"Really? I can't get dinner now because you said so."

"My word is law."

"Fine. I promise that we'll meet again after I've left, how's that for you?"

"Whatever. Close enough." He groaned.

"Glad to hear you're satisfied."

"I am." He smiled, "Hey, Atticus, how are clouds formed?" he inquired, snuggling up to Mustang and resting his head on the colonel's chest. His life force was so warm against his military uniform that he couldn't ignore the urge to run his fingers through the boy's dirty blond hair.

"All the water on the Earth is evaporated by the sun. That water vapor manifests itself as clouds and when the clouds have too much water, they form rain drops and fall to the earth. That water is then evaporated by the sun and the cycle starts all over again." He looked down at the boy and saw his chest rise and fall more flamboyantly and his eyes were closed in deep sleep. He sighed, mumbled some unidentifiable words and picked up the boy like a mother would carry a baby. Oh crap, Mustang's going to burn me for that. I mean, um, Mustang carried him like a man would carry his…favorite axe against his shoulder. Yeah, his manly axe. Not at all feminine. He carried him across the wide expanse, but when he finally made it back to the house, he was met with a livid Edward Elric, armed with a broom.

"What where you doing to my little brother, you jerk? Did you poison him? Did you hit him? I swear if there is one tiny scratch anywhere on him I will kill you so hard that—"

"Down, boy, easy now. Alphonse and I just went flower picking. He fell asleep, so I carried him back here, see?" He lowered himself and his load to Edward's level, "Not one tiny scratch anywhere."

"Well, I appreciate you holding back your bloodlust around my brother, but don't think I'm done keeping an eye on you."

"Oh?" Mustang rose to his full height and looked down at the boy.

"Yeah." He crossed his arms morosely around his chest, staring back up at the man for all he was worth.

Finally. A challenge.

* * *

BREAK AND LINE SITTING IN A TREE

* * *

Trisha grabbed her purse and was about to head out for the market to buy some ingredients for the night's dinner, when Edward pulled at the end of her dress.

"Yes, Sweetie? What is it?"

"You promised me a week ago you'd teach me how to ride that bike in the basement."

"And I will — I will. But I have to get some food and cook dinner. I also have to water the plants and do that laundry and—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it; you're busy."

"Oh, Honey." She knelt down to his level and placed a hand on his face that ran through his hair gently. It was at this untimely moment that the colonel had gotten out of bed and stumbled near the front door. She smiled at him.

"Atticus, do you know how to ride a bike?"

"Mom…"

"Well, of course." The man replied, clear confusion written all over his face.

"Well, there's your fix!" she exclaimed to her son, rising back to her full height. "Ask him nicely and he might say yes."

"No." he crossed his arms.

"Edward…"

"You said that _you _would do it!"

"I don't have enough time today. Now ask him nicely." She claimed sternly, then left.

"Well, what did you want to ask me?" he inquired with a yawn and an arm stretch.

"Nothing." He huffed.

"I'm not going to kill anyone, you know."

"Yeah. I know. But I still don't like you."

"Why not?"

"This is a hard time for Winry, you insensitive jerk! You staying here only makes her cry even more. If you can do something that terrible to an innocent girl, then I hate you!" he decided crossly.

"I swear I didn't mean to hurt Winry. She sounds like a lovely young lady. And Al told me you're very…_fond_ of her."

He blushed violently, but refused to dignify his accusation with a defense, "Since when did you start calling Alphonse Al?"

"He told me to call him that." He lied.

"Whatever." He scowled.

"So, what was it you wanted to ask me again? And I'm not going to leave you alone until you tell me."

"Fine, you _jerk_. If you're going to be such a _jerk_ about it…"

"Just get on with it."

"My mom _promised _to teach me how to ride a bike, but she told me to ask you instead since she's busy."

Mustang's eyes illuminated with surprise, "You want me to teach you how to ride a bike?"

"No. But it looks like I have no choice." The animosity in his voice lifted for a moment, "So, um…would you…?"

"Uh, sure."

"Alright…I'll go get the bike…then…" he awkwardly finished then dashed off to retrieve the bike. A few minutes later he came up, pushing it with great difficulty. Roy bit back a chuckle at the scene and hoisted the small bike over his shoulder.

"I'll take it from here."

"Whatever."

"A simple thank you would be nice."

"Thank you, Jerk."

"You know, Alphonse doesn't think I'm a jerk. I can't be all that bad."

"Alphonse doesn't think D— Hohenheim is a jerk. But he's the biggest jerk you'll ever meet."

"I thought you wanted your dad to come home."

"I don't. I wish he'd stay away forever. Or get eaten by a pack of vicious animals."

"Surely you don't actually mean that."

"I do. He's a huge jerk."

"That seems to be your favorite word today."

"Because I'm talking to _you_ about _Hohenheim_. Now," he sighed once they reached their destination on the road, "are you going to teach me how to ride this thing or not?"

"Where's your helmet?"

"Don't have one."

"Thought so. Oh, well, I'll hold the bike and you get on."

"Sounds like a plan." He got onto the bike and Roy held onto the back of the seat.

"Now put your feet on the petals." He did as so.

"And just start pedaling."

His feet pounded in a circle and the bike took off. Mustang had to run to hold onto the bike. They were nearing their mailbox when he realized he hadn't taught him how to stop. Edward voiced this thought with a shriek,

"I can't stop!"

"Just squeeze the handlebars!" but the direction was lost over the squeal of the tires as he tried to turn to avoid it. This was in vain, however, and Mustang instinctively let go of the bike as it crashed.

"Ahh!"

He ran immediately to where he heard the scream.

"Edward? Edward!" What if something serious had happened to the boy? What if he'd changed history forever? What if he'd ruin the future? What if the space/time continuum tore the universe apart? What if the boy was hurt?

A small hand reached out from one of the spokes of the overturned bike and a soft groan could be heard. Mustang frantically threw the bike off of him and picked him up.

"Are you okay? Did the bike hit your head? Ugh! I knew I should've made you wear a helmet! Did you get stuck in the bike? Are you hurt anywhere?" he examined the boy and found that his knee was badly scraped up. He had a gash running above his eyebrow and his arm was a bit bloody. There were tears in his eyes, but he grunted and refused to let them free. It gave Mustang an idea of how hurt he was because he didn't protest to a jerk like Roy picking him up. Instead, he slid his arms around his neck and drew closer to him. He carried the boy up the hill and into the house. He caught a small glimpse of a little blonde girl, but was far too focused on Edward's injuries to pay her any mind.

"Where does your mother keep the first aid kit?"

He shakily pointed to a lower cabinet in the kitchen. Roy set the boy down on the counter and fished the bright red box out of the cabinet and opened it to find some adhesive medical strips. He immediately got to work tending to the boy's wound.

"…'don't need…your help…" he breathed in between whimpers.

"Yeah." He laughed as he wiped away some of the blood, "Sure you don't."

"Alriiiiiight…there. All better now, okay?"

He bit his bottom lip and nodded.

"Great. Now let's start again."

"Are you sure you're well enough to start again?"

"Probably not. But that's not going to stop me."

"Are you _crazy_? No way am I going to let you hurt yourself like that again." Once the words were out of his mouth he was a little surprised at the concern in his voice. Since when did he care about the Fullmetal brat?

"Then don't let go of the bike next time, Hotshot!" he shouted.

"Are you blaming this on me?" he yelled back.

"You shouldn't have let go! Al was right. You're _exactly _like Dad!" he stomped out of the room and "I mean Hohenheim!" echoed from the hallway he was running down.

Silence snaked around Roy like an unwanted guest sneaking into the room. After a moment of shock, he slowly began to clean up the bloody mess left by the boy. Who did he think he was, anyway? What gave him the right to yell at the man who had cleaned up his wounds? Why wasn't he grateful Mustang wasn't a heartless solider that left him to bleed to death on the road? How could he be so rash to someone who had done nothing to him? When did he do something so horrible to deserve such aggressive behavior from the loud child? Where did he think he lived that he could dare challenge the authority of an _Amestrian_ colonel?

"I'm sorry about that." Came a small voice below him. He was so angry he didn't see Alphonse come in, who was now helping him clean up and put away the first aid kit.

"Why should you be sorry?" Roy snorted, "You didn't yell in my face."

"I just — I just am. But not that he yelled in your face. Brother has a very…_unique _way of showing affection sometimes when he doesn't want to…"

"Affection?" Mustang scoffed, "You've got to be kidding me."

"No." he shook his head, "I've only seen him act this way a few times. He only talks about it to Mom, but he really misses Dad. He might not admit it, but he likes the way you resemble him." He explained, putting away some of the white padding into its designated compartment, "He doesn't like it when Winry cries, though. He hates that sometimes more than milk. So, at first he might have had some misguided anger towards you, but I think he's gotten over it pretty quickly."

Mustang's jaw dropped.

"You have got to be kidding me. That's how he shows _affection_?"

"_I will talk to you however I want to! And I am NOT going on that mission with a bastard like you!"_

"_You heard me, pervert!" _

"Yeah. He tends to push people away when he thinks he's getting attached. "

"_Can't I do the mission alone?"_

"It's different with family, though. But even people like Winry are no exception. He pushes her away sometimes, too. But after some time, he'll stop trying to be so aggressive and he'll stop trying to push you away and he'll show affection like a normal person. That's when you know you've earned his trust. He does it that way to prevent from being hurt again. Ever since our father left...he's been relatively wary of showing any emotions, so—"

There was a noise of small feet thumping in the adjacent hallway.

"That's going to be him…I was never here, okay?"

"Okay." Mustang gave an amiable wink.

Alphonse put a finger over his lips and disappeared through the opposite doorway.

"Come on." Edward stated bluntly upon entering through the threshold. "I'm giving you a chance to redeem yourself. Take it or forever be ostracized."

"Oh? How generous of you." Mustang exclaimed getting up and following Edward out to where the bike sat, sprawled in an unnatural position against the mailbox. Roy set it upright and Ed got on.

"Now this time do your job right."

"Sure thing…" a smile a mile wide split across his face, "…Squirt."

"WHY YOU LITTLE—"

"Pedal now. Yell later."

"Fine." He puffed, then commenced pedaling. He seemed to be going fine for a bit, but then something so quiet the entire world would have to be silent for someone to hear, emitted from his mouth. However, Mustang had near perfect hearing and detected the soft whimper. It formed an identifiable string of words repeated and repeated like some sort of incantation.

"Don't let go…don't let go…don't let go…"

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Gosh, aren't you a little paranoid?"

"No. Just concerned."

Edward breathed in sharply through his nose.

"Just remember to stop, you squeeze the handle bars or pedal backwards."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious."

"Yeah, it was obvious when you crashed."

"It was _your _fault."

"If you insist…"

"Well, it _was_."

He tried to squeeze the handle bars, but ended up changing the gears both to 1. The pedaling became too easy, he couldn't get any friction going and pedaled wildly out of control. He turned around and latched onto Roy. Roy, taking the events and how fast they happened as a surprise, let go of the bike and with the seven-year-old Edward in his arms, watched it crash into the mailbox for the second time that afternoon.

"Want to try again?"

"Ugh, duh."

He made a motion towards the bike, but before he could even plant one step on the grass, Edward ordered,

"Put me down."

"Fine, fine, have it your way." He set the boy on the ground gently, and retrieved the bike.

Edward got back on and began trying to ride. He covered four feet, farther than he had ever gone on the bike without crashing, and couldn't bite back a celebratory shout.

"I'm riding! I'm riding! I'm really doing it!" he glanced back expectantly, but saw that "Atticus Mercier" actually had let go, despite his wishes. And he had stopped holding on to the back of his bike quite some time ago, Ed deduced based on the distance he could see the raven-haired man laughing at.

"You jerk!" he successfully stopped the bike, jumped off, and discarded it with a disinterested push as he stomped toward Mustang, "You let go! You promised you wouldn't let go!" The boy was now right in front of him, so much so he had to uncomfortably downturn his neck just to be able to see him.

"But your rode all by yourself. You didn't need me. I showed you how to do it, you learned, and you did it by yourself without my help. That's all a father could ever wish for from his son. And you mastered it in a matter of minutes. I'm sure your dad, wherever he is, would be proud." Mustang was completely and utterly shocked those words had come from him. But they needed to be said, something inside him was pulling at his mouth like a ventriloquist, willing him to say what Edward needed to hear. However, he assured himself, the father and son thing he threw in there didn't pertain to Edward and himself at all. He was talking about Hohenheim. But that same inner ventriloquist also threw in after a pause, "I know I am."

There was a moment of silence, and Roy almost thought the boy had drifted off to sleep, but when he looked down again, he could see that Edward was very much conscious and his shoulder shook a little. He wasn't crying, of course, Edward never cried. He was trembling, it seemed like, but no saline droplets made their way down his cheeks. He took one hesitant, vacillating step toward Roy, then fully ran at the man and embraced his leg, which was the only real part of Mustang he _could _wrap his arms around with such a small stature.

Roy just stared, his eyes wide, his brows raised, and his jaw wavering in complete and utter shock. Fullmetal, the very boy who dubbed him "Colonel Bastard" and left out the "F" in "Flame Alchemist," was giving him the tightest bear hug he'd ever experienced. Even beside that, he just couldn't get over the fact that _Fullmetal_ was _hugging _**him. **

"_But after some time, he'll stop trying to be so aggressive and he'll stop trying to push you away and he'll show affection like a normal person. That's when you know you've earned his trust." _

It took a moment for him to wrap his mind around it, but when he did, he bent down, brought the boy to his chest and hugged him back just as strong.

The chorus of "Aww!" from the fangirls reading was swiftly interrupted by a slow clap originating from the hands of someone on the porch. Mustang, since his arms were so conveniently around the boy, and while I've already broken the fourth wall and have nothing else to lose, also for the fangirls, he picked the boy up in that manly axe-man way I mentioned before and turned to the source. Hawkeye was out of bed, leaning up against the column holding up the porch for support. Roy was suddenly painfully cognizant of how fondly he was holding the child.

"I see you found Edward." She chuckled. Roy then noticed two hands cascading down her shoulders, and a pair of legs wrapped around her waist.

"And I trust you've found Alphonse?"

"Yeah," she giggled, "I found Alphonse." She repositioned her grip on the boy resting on her back with a smile. Then her face grew serious, "Have you found the stone?"

"Well, um, I…"

"You haven't even begun looking for it, have you?"

"Looking for what?" Alphonse questioned, his tone too high not to be happy.

"Um…the ring." Roy forced out.

"What?" all three in ear shot inquired.

"Yes, I was going to propose to Lila, here, but I lost the ring."

"Li—?" she looked confused for a moment but quickly regained her composure, "Oh, yeah, that clumsy fiancé of mine! He lost the ring right as he was proposing! Then we got into that nasty…" she trailed off for lack of improvisation, "…and I said yes, of course, but he really needs to find that ring. He's too broke to afford another one."

"Hey? What do you mean broke? I'll have you know—"

"It's okay, Honey, you don't have to lie about your finical situation. No one's going to look down on you for it."

"If you say so…but we really need to find that ring…"

"Do you want us to help?"

Everyone turned shocked eyes towards the soon-to-be-State-Alchemist who was surprisingly not protesting being held by Roy for so long. He actually seemed…almost content to be wrapped up in the colonel's strong arms.

"Uh— um…no, but if you happen to see an orange stone anywhere, don't pick it up, okay? Just come and get us." Roy replied, still in a daze by how Ed's voice could sound so much like Al's when he was cheerful.

"I thought it was a ring."

"Well, yeah, but we found the holder, we're just missing the stone that was inside."

"'Kay!"

Hawkeye and Mustang shot each other an incredulous look.

* * *

!ENILKAERB ?NAISSUR ELBMESER GNITIRW SDRAWKCAB SEOD YHW !ENILKAERB

* * *

The thick veil of clouds covering the midnight moon was coming down hard on the secluded, country house. The sky was riddled with lightning bolts and rumbled with vindictive roars, heralding the departure of negative discharges. Roy was fast asleep when a creak in the door aroused him back into the world of the living. A thin, silky line of a margarine spill crept in through the opening in the door. The buttery light of the hallway spread across the room without the need of a knife, or more so like a knife, and a small silhouette marred the innocent wood flooring with an ethereal silence. Then there was the pounding of feet and the next thing Roy knew, Edward was at his bedside.

"What is it, Ed?"

There was a buzzing stroke of lightning and a deep, mirthless laugh boomed from the dark clouds. Fear flitted in Edward's eyes and a shiver wracked his tiny frame.

"You scared of the thunder?"

He nodded vigorously.

"Well, come on, then." He scooted over in the bed and folded back the blankets, welcoming the young Elric. He scampered up, but still kept his distance from the colonel. Another flash of lightning and thunder resounded, completely melting his composed resolve. He quickly scurried to where Mustang laid and buried his face in his chest, his hands clenched around the fabric of Roy's military garb. Roy slowly brought his hands around the boy's small back and rubbed comforting circles in a rhythmic pattern. The boy didn't cry, but his breath came out shaky and his shoulders trembled. In a small, frail voice he recanted his previous statement.

"I-i-i-it's n-n-n-not the th-th-th-thunder I-i-i-I'm s-s-s-scared of-f-f-f…" he stammered.

"Then what is it…?" Roy inquired in a melodious, soothing voice. He shrunk further in on the time traveler and his breathing got heavier and jumped up a few octaves with every wheeze.

"M-m-mom's r-r-really s-s-sick, I heard h-h-her talking about it w-w-w-with G-g-g-granny. She doesn't w-w-w-want Al and I to know y-y-y-yet, but I d-d-do and…I s-s-s-see her dying a v-v-v-v-violent and p-p-p-painful d-d-d-d-d….d-d-d-d-d-d…I…I c-can't even s-say it…" he gave a small hiccup and continued, "b-b-but I see it every t-t-time t-t-there's th-th-thunder in m-m-m-my n-n-n-nightmares…It's there a-a-a-again…a-a-and again…and I'm so scared — s-s-s-so t-t-terrified of Alphonse finding out, but — but I know he's going to find out and then — I just don't want to do anything to ruin that innocent smile of his. He's my little brother and I have to do everything in my power to protect him from that, but — I just... I can't keep doing this, I just can't…"

He curled into Mustang's warmth even more.

"Y-y-you're such a jerk, Mercier." He began to curl away from him, "W-w-w-why did you have to say something so stupid to me earlier today? Y-y-y-y-you're just so stupid. A-a-a-and I'm stupid I-I-I-I-I'm so stupid for coming here and for thinking — for thinking you'd care. I-I-I'm probably just some stupid kid to you…I'm stupid and that's why D— Hohenheim left and why my mom's going to die and why my brother's going to have to suffer…I'm just going to go…forget I was ever here…" he jumped up and started to run, but Mustang caught him by the arm and picked him up, Ed's view suddenly changed from the doorway, to the bed again, then back to the door as the colonel turned around with him in tow. He hugged him close to his chest and the next words out of his lips shocked both of them,

"Yeah. You are pretty stupid. You blame yourself for things that are out of your control. You try to shoulder all the pain on your own. You don't trust others around you to be strong enough to handle what you try to harbor on your own. You think you have to do everything on your own. You can't put faith in people because you fear rejection. You'd rather never love than lose love. You'd rather play it safe because you've been hurt before and you don't want it to happen again. Not everyone is Hohenheim, you know." He sat down on the bed and wrapped his arms around him tighter, "I'm not Hohenheim. And you were extremely stupid, so extremely stupid to just flat-out assume I didn't care." He laid down on his side, and released the boy.  
"There. You're free to leave if you want." The boy's eyes widened, but didn't move. Lightning and thunder reverberated, and the boy found himself hugging Mustang with all his might as Hawkeye, who was awakened by a jolt of thunder some time ago, smiled at the scene in the dark.

_AN:_

_O_O _

_My brother walked in on me writing "He curled into Mustang's warmth even more." and got the impression I was writing yaoi...which this is not...but it was still really awkward to explain._

_Now._

_R_

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't mind me, just playing with the pristine cow's toys…

_A special thanks to: _**Ninjapirate101**_,_** awesomenaruto**_,_**Linkrules-88**_, _**Rain Shigu**_, _**Wolf-Alchemist-The-Demon-Wolf**_, _**iheartfullmetal**_, _**Anquitil**_, _**Hina Kita**_._

_Especially _**awesomenaruto**_, who gave the review that made me pick this back up. (I had kind of dropped this even though I have a really deep storyline to back up the parental fluff and really wanted to continue it, I just have other projects that get more reviews with 2,000-word-chapters, so when I wrote SIX TIMES that — 12,000+ — I expected…more, I guess. But because of that review I'm going to give this another try. Don't review, and you'll never find out what happens…)_

The ebbing crowd was something of a culture shock after spending the past week — _eternity_, Roy mused with a certain fondness — in only the Elric's and Hawkeye's company. It had been…nice. He wished he could say it surprised him less than it actually did, but the seven days spent there were unexpectedly…cozy. Almost like a dream, one that was sure to dematerialize before his eyes as he would awake to find himself in an empty apartment, with only the hum of the ventilation system to offer any consolation.

Not that he was going to miss the all-limbed Edward Elric. It was just…the nice change of scenery that made him feel as though he was walking on air. Yeah. Just a change of scenery. Like the one he found himself beholding then, as he and Edward emptied the navy car and found their way through a fluid mosaic of assorted races and genders, all with his or her own personal destination in mind. He didn't expect to see so many people at the market, but considering most of them looked like they had come from miles and miles away to barter for goods and browse Xingese merchant's wares, the crowd's size seemed reasonable. Of course, he and the-soon-to-be-Fullmetal-Alchemist had driven for hours to get there, themselves.

He honestly couldn't recall how he got saddled into taking the kid with him, but he was somewhat glad for the seven-year-old's company, even if it would be harder to maneuver through the crowd. Which reminded him. He couldn't let the combustive boy out of his sight, lest he be arrested within five minutes of their exhibition.

"Ed." He sighed, reaching out his hand to the small boy as he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the shouting and rebellious kick of the shin. Surprisingly, he only received a sad, little pout as protest before a fleshy hand intertwined with his.

He supposed he should've gotten use to his new, absence-of-mutinous-rebellion attitude, but it still came as a shock when he followed as basic commands as holding his hand in a crowd, so as not to be separated.

"Atticus?" he piped up once they set off into the bustling crowd.

"Yeah, Ed?"

The new name was also something to get use to. He only hoped that it wouldn't be for too long.

"Why do you want to find that stone so badly? I mean, you've been looking for awhile, and there are plenty of other rings."

"This certain stone, and the ring itself, both belonged to my grandmother. It's important that I give this specific ring to Hawkeye."

Another added treat about being stuck in the past, was that he and Riza had to pretend to be engaged. Yes, that was another bonus he would surely miss once they got back to their own time.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He rolled his eyes.

"So. What is it that we need again?"

"Umm…" he used his free hand to fish around in his pocket and retrieve a crumpled piece of paper with marginally _okay _handwriting scribbled around the azure lines. He glanced at the list, "We need bread, lettuce, tomatoes, oats, grain, lemons, some meat…"

"And?"

"And…?"

"I recall your mother putting milk on that list."

He made a face and grumbled something under his breath.

"You know you have to drink it, Ed."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it…"

"Well, what if we make stew with it instead of drinking it raw?"

His face lit up, but an underlying theme of suspicion could still be found in his voice.

"Really?"

"I'll see what I can do." He responded airily.

"Jerk."

"So you keep saying…" he sighed.

For the most part, Edward stuck right by his side. There were times when he would wander off a bit, but when Roy barked his name, he would scurry back, face flushed with anger and a little embarrassment. However, when he got to the last object on the list — incidentally milk — Edward wasn't in visual range, and even when he yelled his name angrily, there was no reply. He swore under his breath and began walking briskly, eyes scanning hungrily over the crowds in search of a blonde-eyed golden-haired child.

* * *

ONE BREAKLINE LATER…

* * *

Edward had been staring admiringly at the silver, Drachman jewelry when he felt a harsh hand clamp onto his shoulder.

"Mercier, Jerk, you better—" he started, but saw that the man digging his nails into his shoulder wasn't Atticus. A man with a thick, greasy beard and the hair on his head slicked back towered over him with a sardonic smirk.

"I think you have me confused with someone else, boy…" he spoke with a bone-chilling vigor, "Where are your parents, boy? You lost?"

He gave a very unconvincing gulp and shook his head.

"Well, that's too bad. I'll help you find them." He moved his hand to his wrists and pulled forcefully.

"Ugh!" he groaned at the sudden, unplanned momentum, and fell to the dirt floor.

The man smiled and picked him up by the neck. Fear flashed across his molten-fired eyes and he let out a strangled cry that barely managed to penetrate the afternoon air. His hand clenched into fists, his arms began flailing, and his legs thrust back and forth violently as he wildly searched for a way out. He could feel his brain swelling at the lack of oxygen, and his insides felt as if they were about to blow out the top of his inflamed head. The man chuckled callously as Edward realized with horror-stricken orbs that the flow of people had stopped and the bustling crowd had swept along, leaving him and the thug beached all by themselves.

"Come on, kid. We're going to my place." He held him high in the air as if he was a prized game bird and began to walk along the nearly-abandoned street.

"_You_ are not going anywhere." A voice proclaimed assertively. Ed dipped his head to the side to take in the sight of Atticus Mercier, white-gloved and eyes smoldering with a tangy mixture of anger, exhaustion, and …

Concern?

No, it couldn't be concern — it wasn't concern. Atticus was just exasperated because his charge-for-the-day had run off and gotten himself into this mess, and in the process, caused him a great deal of trouble. If anything, it was contempt. But there was no possible way concern was etched in along with everything else coloring his obsidian eyes.

But even though his features gave a threatening growl all their own, the man made no motion to return the boy.

"I'm going wherever I please, you stu—" without warning, he snapped and fire erupted near his feet, causing the burly man to shout in terror.

"What the heck you freak—" his voice was drowned out as Atticus furiously snapped as if his own fingers were a trigger and he was determined to deliver rapid fire. He was caught in an animosity-fueled stupor of destruction, firing everything in his path until the scorched landscape resembled his own unrelenting rage. He was careful not to actually hit the man or, more importantly, Edward. The purpose was to scare him, not to turn him into a freshly cooked barbeque. And it was apparent by the crazed look on his face that he succeeded in his task. He immediately dropped the boy and ran for the hills.

He hit the ground with an impressive thud as it knocked the air in him out through his teeth. Mercier's boots could be seen from a tilted angle as he ran to him.

"Are you okay, Edward? How's your neck? Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner; I was asking everyone and no one could give me a straight answer, I got a couple false leads, but then this lady at an antiquities shop told me she's seen you with a bearded man and I was so terrified — I thought he was really going to choke you and it would've been my fault for bringing you here in the first place and you just — I —"

Suddenly, he felt two small arms wrap around his waist from the ground's vantage point. He could only hug back and pop out a surprised, "Ed!" at the sudden contact.

"Shut up, you jerk." He ordered softly, stumbling up into a sitting position, and then further crumpling into the older man's embrace.

After a long interval of time, Mustang finally regained his composure and let out a shocked and — yes, it was concerned, he could tell it was valid now — gasp.

"Edward, your neck! It's badly bruised." He gingerly set two fingers down on his jugular vein, the touch feeling as delicate as moth wings as he inspected the area.

"Phew. It's just some bruising, nothing internal. It should heal in a day or two, but only if you have that stew I was talking about earlier."

"Fine. Whatever." He choked out as he rushed to his feet and brushed himself off. Roy, as well, brought himself to his feet and picked up the bag of discarded groceries. Once all of that was in order, he turned to Ed and wordlessly lifted his outstretched hand from his side. Edward spoke aloud a tiny "Thanks," and took it. They walked back to where the crowds were fresh and made their way to the car. Before they could actually load it, however, a lady with a terribly oversized nose that hung off her face like an actual geographical feature snidely remarked,

"Ugh! What's a filthy military dog doing out here?"

Apparently she and her company had noticed the silver pocketwatch looped to Mustang's waist.

"Don't touch it, Perilya!" She gave him a wary eye, then turned back to the group, "They have fleas!" The girls in the posse burst into raucous laughter. Edward gave them a death glare, but that only fueled their laughter.

"Look! The dog's got a pup! That literally makes him a bastard!"

He made a low, threatening noise.

"Ah! He's growling at us, girls!"

"Gosh, doesn't a military dog know how to contain his pup?"

"Figures."

"It's what you come to expect from such _filthy_, _disgusting_ mutts."

The girls were so busy making jokes, they didn't even realize the transmutation circle Edward was tracing in the loose, almost-sandy-like ground.

"Playing in the dirt? Good. It's nice to have a little history lesson. Learn where your ancestors come from."

"Yeah, I can imagine th — Ahh!"

Mustang slid his gloved hand over Edward's eyes before he could get a glimpse of what the clique of girls looked like after their clothes were transmuted into dust.

* * *

OBNOXIOUS BREAKLINE

* * *

"What was that back there?" Mustang finally asked after traveling twenty minutes in silence.

"Those girls — they had no right. They don't know you. They shouldn't have a right to judge you."

Roy's smile was rueful and mirthless as he sighed, "Oh, Edward…"

"What?" he demanded petulantly.

"I deserved every word they had to say."

"No, you didn't!"

"I did. Why do you care, anyway?" the question was quiet and reeking of a silent desperation. Not for a good answer — but for Edward not to argue or ask any question of his own.

"I-I don't…" he replied a little too slowly.

Amiable silence descended upon the two at the hidden meaning of those words. Edward shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Mustang kept his eyes planted firmly on the road ahead of him.

"Thanks." They both started simultaneously.

"Ya know, for saving me."

"Even though that was all kinds of uncalled for…"

A long pause.

"You're welcome."

"And you're a jerk."

The words held no malice, and Roy knew what they really meant.

* * *

BREAKLINE. SUE ME.

* * *

The shadows clinging to the space around him made it hard to tell the depth or the height of the arcane room. The floor felt smooth and cold against his left hand as he stumbled haphazardly to his feet. His head was ringing with an uncanny clarity and the ache in his joints was a deathly numbing agony. The place was completely unfamiliar even though he was supposedly back in his hometown. Taking a shuddering breath, he ran his fingers along the surrounding grooves in the wall, but before his fingers could grasp anything firmly, a bar of pale light slid through the darkness, throwing shadows into hiding and the desks and tables into focus. A blonde man with glasses stepped into the room, giving a smirk as he eyed him up and down.

"I knew we had new recruits, but I didn't expect them to be fresh out of preschool. What's a shrimp like you doing out of the dorms this late?"

Edward Elric immediately dove for the man's throat.

"What? Oh, a feisty one, I see." He stated simply as he dodged and landed a hand on Edward's throat, pulling him off the ground. Suddenly, a distant memory resurfaced and flashed across his mind's eye, something about a creepy man and a deserted market…

He let it slide, seeing as how the situation he now found himself in took precedence over whatever fleeting childhood memory had made an abrupt appearance. He kicked at the man and brought his hands together to transmute, but two other guys shuffled into the room and grabbed his reaching appendages, laughing like maniacs as he struggled to breathe. Their free fists took a liking to making his crème-colored skin turn purple as they punched him vigorously.

"Hey." A slightly familiar voice interjected, "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

They slowly released Edward and he crumpled to the floor in a solid puddle. Breath uneven and coming out in forceful tuffs, eyes flitting around the room at Sloth's pace, he watched the scene play out in front of him in a daze. He tuned in and out, not catching a single word of the raucous conversation buzzing around him, or a single, fluid motion of the fight dancing around his frail body. But suddenly, all of the mist he saw was lifted and the man who had intervened was shaking him.

"…stand…"

"Huh?"

"Can you stand, kid?" He now saw the face of his mystery savior, and shocks of ginger lightning sprouted at the base of his vision. Just like the lighting from the…the Traveler's Stone! That's right! He probably wasn't even in Risembool anymore, the stone had moved him somewhere else entirely, he could be in Dublith, or Central, or even Drachma, but that would mean…

He wasn't in his own time.

"Better question, can you talk?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can talk." Ed rose to his full height — no matter how unimpressive it was — and stared the man in the face with growing confusion.

"Come on, kid. You're hurt pretty badly. Tell me your dorm number so I can drop you off." He slid his arm around his shoulder.

"Um…32B?"

There was silence.

"No dorm, eh?"

"What gave it away?"

"No such thing as 32B."

"Figures."

"Do you even go to this institution?"

"This is an institute?"

He narrowed his eyes and slowly nodded.

"Well, Kid, I don't know where you came from and I doubt it's really any of my business, but if you have no place to stay for the night…" here he muttered something under his breath along the lines of "Hughes and Arber are going to kill me…" and continued, "You can crash in my dorm."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but in the morning, we're calling your parents, got that?"

Ed blanched, but nodded all the same.

"By the way," he began as they started for his room, "what's your name kid?"

"Um…" He mumbled, knowing full and well that Xirg would be eaten alive if anyone she knew read this, and that she's running such a big risk just for a tolerable alias. She's going to regret this. She can see Brandon's smirk as she types. She can literally see her brother's smirk, because he's the idiot in the room with her that suggested it and she's the idiot that went along with it. Where was she again? Oh, yeah… "Alex Burcar."

Does Xirg feel better now that it's all good and typed and out there?

She does not.

"And what's your name?"

"Oh. How rude of me. I'm Roy Mustang."

* * *

THIS **BREAKLINE**! SAW THAT COMING -_-

* * *

"Here. This was all I could find in the Mess's pantry." He tossed a bag of crackers and a package of cheese to Ed as he sat perched upon a military school-issued bed. He honestly didn't realize just how hungry he was until the food was placed in front of him, and he devoured it as if it was his first meal in months.

"Wow. When was the last time you ate?"

Ed refrained from using a corny time travel joke with immense difficulty.

"They don't really feed me at home, I guess you could say."

A flash of something coursed through his onyx eyes for a moment, but the door to the dorm opened and it was gone before Edward could decipher it.

"Hey, Roy, I was just—" the solider-in-training stopped and stared.

"Maes, this is Alex, Alex, this is Maes."

"Um…why is there a kid in our room?" he tried to lower his voice so only Roy could hear it and failed spectacularly.

"Found him on the ground level. Blondie was beating the crap out of him, so he's crashing here for the night."

"How'd you get here, Alex?" Hughes asked as he sat on the same bed as him, and began cleaning his glasses.

"Um, well…" he stumbled over words and the food pouring into his mouth, "I ran away from home. My father was a bastard and my mother's…dead. That bastard would have killed me if I didn't get out of there."

"So he was abusive?" Hughes softly asked.

Edward, having nothing to lose, nodded mutely.

"I see…then it's a good thing Roy found you." He stated, giving his glasses a once-over before reapplying them to his forest green eyes. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like." Roy scooted closer to the back wall of his bed and folded his hands over his chest.

"Actually, I don't need to be here that long. I was researching…the Traveler's Stone. You see, I'm an alchemist, and the stone could really help me become a state alchemist. That's my goal. So I can be emancipated from that bastard."

"You're an alchemist? But you're only ten!"

"I'm almost fifteen…" he growled.

Roy nodded, "I see. I can help you with that. I may not look like much, but I've dabbled a bit in the alchemical arts myself."

Ed snorted. "It's not an art. It's a science."

"Depends on how you look at it."

Sighing, he stood up abruptly and announced, "I'm going to warn Arber of our guest and maybe try and yank his head out of one of those novels of his he's been so engrossed in. Chao."

Once he was gone and safely out of ear-shot, Hughes turned and addressed Ed in a rushed fashion,

"What did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"No offense, but Roy never picks up strays. Never. You must be different somehow, so I'll ask you again, what did you do?"

"_Do?_ I didn't _do_ anything!"

"Are you sure you're not related to a Miss Riza Hawkeye? That might be it."

"No…"

"Then I'm stumped. Blondie, that guy you ran into, he beats up a stowaway kid every day, and all Roy's ever done is alert the administration that unauthorized personnel has been trespassing on military property after the kid's beaten an inch from death."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's why I wanted to know what you did to get him to finally do something about it."

He shook his head, "I don't know what to tell you, honestly."

"It could be—"

"Found him." Roy announced, throwing open the door, an Ishbalan in tow. A look of complete and utter surprise splashed across Ed's face.

"Pick your jaw up from the ground, Burcar. Jeez, at least pretend to have some class. This is Arber, our roommate, and yours too if you want to stay here."

He inaudibly nodded.

"If you have something against Ishbalans you better get it out of your system now, because you're going to be seeing a lot of Hiess if you don't plan on being shipped off to wherever you came from. And we're going to have to lay down some ground rules," _Now he sounds like the Mustang I know_, Ed mused, "You are not to leave this room unless one of us says you can. You can use the library for your research, apparently there's something there you need or you wouldn't be trespassing, but only when we know no one's in there. When it comes time for inspection in the morning, you are to hide out that window," he gestured to the aforementioned window, "until we say the coast is clear. I'll sneak you food when I can, but do _not _go out after it yourself, understand? That'd be breaking the first rule, and so help me if you break a _single one_, you'll be chucked back to whatever hellhole you crawled out of faster than I can snap my fingers." He snapped for emphasis and Edward couldn't help but flinch even while knowing the future-colonel was not wearing his ignition gloves.

He walked over to the closet, tugged out some extra blankets and tossed them to Ed.

"Now get to bed. It's late enough as it is."

Ed gave a submissive nod and for the first time in his life, followed an order from Mustang without protest or hesitation.

_AN:_

_Don't worry, 19-year-old!Roy is a bit rough around the edges, but he's a total softie. xD Hiess Something Arber was the Ishbalan chilling with Hughes and Mustang in the last OVA for Brotherhood when they were nineteen, so I just decided to make them all roomies. "Blondie" was actually in the OVA, along with his goons, (goons. That felt so_ good_ to type!) but I don't really know his name, so from here on out, he is Blondie. Crappy ending? I'd say so. Review? I'd agree with that as well, that is _if _you want there to be another chapter. I have it all mapped out, but if this doesn't get enough reviews, I won't even bother to type it. Or I'll kill Ed in his sleep. It's all up to you, reviewers, this story's fate is in your hands. _


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